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(BMI) It Aint In The Wine Words & Music by Lee Slaff Turn up the bottle pour down the wine Forget about this moment, Lord think about some better time And leave the bar at two oclock and walk on down the line Its another night just spent alone with them old blue lights and wine Them old blue lights they serve as sad reminders Of the love Im not sure Ill ever find And each night the bartenders just a little bit kinder Well I guess he knows the troubles on my mind Long ago the happiness came once in a while with wine But now the wine no longer brings it, Lord I drink it all the time And why do I go on living with all this hurt and crying Ive searched for an answer all my life but it aint in the wine Chorus Tag: Yes, I guess he knows it aint in the wine 1975 Lucky Skies Publishing Jenny Wind Words & Music by Kate Wolf Her father was a man who knew no fences her mother was a woman of the trail But Jenny Wind was born into a new world when the white man came Jenny was taught the old ways and she learned to speak her fathers tongue When she died, she was one of the last ones and the earth covered up her bones Jenny Wind was born a wild thing a sister to Coyote and the sun But they gave her a dress of calico and they named her Jenny Wind But the white mans ways, they followed her she was buried neath a marker made of stone And on her grave they carved her pretty name Here lies the Indian, Jenny Wind Bridge: But they say her soul flies free caring for the weary and the lost In the forest deep and quiet all around the grave of Jenny Wind I met Jenny on a summer night walking in the Placer County hills I stumbled on her grave in the forest there so all alone and still I wondered if she cared that I found her lying so hidden and alone I wondered who she was before they named her The Indian, Jenny Wind The silence grew til it touched me and held me like the words upon the stone And for the first time I was afraid I would not find my way home I ran from her as the night grew darker I dropped my glasses and I took a fall Lost and blind, somehow I found them lying folded on her grave so small Bridge: And I believe that her soul flies free and it cares for the weary and the lost In the forest deep and quiet all around the grave of Jenny Wind 1977 Another Sundown Publishing Co